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| Courtesy Kennebunkport Inn/Nicole Wolf |
Erin and Riley were awakened by light streaming in through the open curtains and a low rumbling from the street outside and below gently rattling the window. Sitting up, Riley looked out the window.
“Looks like Brynn Wilson is plowing Main Street,” Riley said, leaning back against the headboard as Erin stretched over him to get a view for herself.
“And it’s sunny! A Merry White and Bright Christmas to you, honey!” she said, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him.
“Mrry Chrsms, hny,” he replied without withdrawing from the kiss.
She finally pulled away and, stretching, said “I slept great! Snug as a bug! I wonder how everyone else slept? Did the heater kick on?
Riley flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. It clicked, but didn’t turn on. “I’m not sure the power’s on, but maybe it was for a bit…?”
Erin was already up and out of bed, reaching back long enough to grab Riley’s hand and pull him towards the edge of the bed. “Let’s check on our guests!”
“I wonder if Maud slept at all,” Riley mused, climbing out of bed much more slowly than Erin. “We didn’t actually turn down a room for her.”
“I’ll check!” Erin said, slippers already on her feet as she left the bedroom for the hallway. After a quick splash of water on his face, he joined Erin where she was already putting her ear to the door of Room Six, having presumably listened at Room Seven and heard nothing of note. A moment later, she shrugged and moved on to Room Five. Her brows knit together as she opened the door. She only took a moment to peek in.
“Empty,” she said, a slightly puzzled tone in her voice. She pushed past Riley back to Room Six, peeked, then repeated the exercise on Room Seven. “All empty! I could have sworn I heard some shuffling of some sort on this floor during the night.”
Riley looked into Room Seven as well. Everything looked neat as a pin (or neat as a button, depending on your emphasis). Then it hit him.
“Apparently Maud was up here at some point last night. We didn’t turn this room down originally,” Riley said. He and Erin took one more look at the other rooms and found them all in the same neat state. None of the rooms appeared to have been stayed in.
“I guess she stayed on the first floor with the others. Let’s go see!” Erin said as she headed down the stairs, Riley in tow. “Who was where?” she asked, using her best stage whisper voice as they approached Room One.
“Skyler Mills was here, and the Fosters were in Room Three.”
Erin knocked lightly on the door. “Skyler? Are you up?” She received no response, so knocked harder and called his name more loudly, waiting a moment. Silence. Finally, she opened the door a crack, then pushed it all the way in. The room was just as empty as the ones above, also showing no signs of occupation.
Erin looked at Riley, confusion clear on her face. Riley moved down to Room Three and knocked, but didn’t wait as long as Erin had before opening the door. Room Three was also empty. He quickly checked the other two rooms as Erin went towards the dining room and kitchen.
“They’re not here either,” he heard her call from the other room.
Riley entered the dining room as Erin emerged from the kitchen. The fire in the hearth was still burning well, and the firewood rack was still full. The room was just as spick and span as they’d left it the night before.
“The kitchen is spotless, and the wood stove is still working. It looks like someone was maintaining this stuff all night long, Rye.”
Riley crossed the lobby to the front doors, pausing only long enough to check whether or not they were locked (they weren’t). He opened the doors and stepped onto the porch, which looked as if someone had worked very hard at shoveling and sweeping. The sidewalk that led from the porch out to Main Street was completely clear of snow. Riley had just finished taking this in when a voice called to him from up the street.
“Merry Christmas Riley! And Erin!” The voice came from Brynn Wilson, who had apparently stopped his plowing long enough to wish them well.
“Merry Christmas to you, Brynn! You’ve been busy already, it looks like.”
Brynn Wilson walked up the sidewalk to shake hands with Riley and hug Erin. “Yep, well, Main Street won’t clear itself of snow, that’s for sure! Do you guys have power or something?”
“Nope, it’s still out for us,” Riley replied.
“Oh, that’s odd. I could’ve sworn I saw lights on in there while I was going by. And the way your porch is clear, I thought maybe you’d taken a hair dryer to it!” He laughed at the thought, Erin joining in. “Are you guys prepared for a chilly and powerless Christmas?”
“Actually,” Erin said, taking Riley’s arm, “we are. Is power still out everywhere?”
Brynn nodded, saying “As far as I can tell anyway. It’s definitely out on east side, and the little bit of the west I’ve got to so far looks about the same.”
“In that case,” Riley said, putting his arm around Erin’s shoulders, “and if you don’t mind, Brynn, please spread the word that the Hushed Hearth Inn is set to host anyone that wants to celebrate and needs a warm place to stay and active kitchen in which to prepare food.”
Brynn looked surprised. “Your power’s out, but your kitchen works? You got a special generator just for that?”
Riley smiled at Erin, then said, “No, but we have a huge wood stove and a top tier chef working it.”
“That… sounds like an invitation to a proper Christmas shindig! I’ll start letting folks know!”
“Thanks, Brynn. And we’ll expect to see you by lunchtime.”
“Deal! Thank you two!” Brynn said, almost jogging back to his truck. He gave the couple a wave as he climbed into the cab.
Erin and Riley stood in the morning sunlight for a moment longer, then by mutual unspoken agreement, went inside to prepare for a Christmas party.
***
By the time they had finished breakfast, the first of the townsfolk arrived with a tentative knock on the lobby-side of the hearth. Cory Hughes and his young son Toby greeted Erin and Riley, stating that Brynn Wilson had told them the inn would be a good place to go if they were a little cold, hungry, or wanted a little more company this morning. Erin ushered them to a table near the fireplace, but Toby immediately went to the tree.
“There’s no decorations,” he said, seeming confused.
Riley joined him there. “You’re right, Toby. Not a single strand of tinsel, not a star on the top… what should we do about that?”
“Well…” Toby replied, a little shyly, “I’ve got this one ornament back at the house. It’s a black and white dog dressed up like a World War I flying ace, and he’s got a little yellow bird with him. I… could…” he trailed off.
Riley glanced back at Cory, who nodded, then asked “Toby, would it be alright if you brought that ornament for the tree? I think it would go really well… here.” He pointed to a spot near the middle.
“No, I think it would go better here!” Toby replied, pointing to a place nearer the window.
“That sounds perfect. How about you run get it as soon as you’ve had a little breakfast?”
Riley had never seen a young boy eat eggs so quickly, and he had been a scrappy young boy himself at one point.
The scene repeated itself several more times. Steff Wood and her partner Hayden, then Emerson Rees (one of the older community members, although he still described himself as a “very eligible bachelor”), then Rowan Hart and family all arrived in succession. Before long, word had spread that folks should bring decorations as well as any food they’d like to prepare. By lunchtime, it was, indeed, a proper Christmas shindig, and the entire inn had been trimmed in all manner of handmade and random decorations.
Some of the last people to arrive were Blake and Kerry Foster and their children, along with another couple and children that neither Riley nor Erin recognized. They were introduced as Hector Bardin and Alexis Stone, up from New York City. Hector was a cousin of the Foster’s, which reminded Riley of part of his conversation with Reed and Elys the night before.
“Oh, so you were the houseful of guests we heard about, huh?” Blake only stared back at Riley as Hector gave him a tentative smile and nod. “We had a couple of guests here last night that said they were spill-overs from your place, Blake. Did Reed and Elys wind up going back over there?”
It was actually Hector that replied. “Did you say Reed and Elys?” Riley and Erin both nodded.
“Reed and Elys were the names of my great-great-grandparents.”
Riley and Erin both looked at each other, then back at Blake and Hector. “That’s… how they introduced themselves.” Riley went and fetched the guest book from where he’d put it back in the lobby desk. Opening it, he flipped to the last page.
Hector’s eyes widened a bit. “Skyler Mills as well?”
“Does that name ring a bell with you?” Erin asked.
“Yes,” Hector replied, “Skyler Mills was one of New England’s most noted Traveling Troubadors in the mid nineteenth century. What did they look like?” Hector asked. Riley and Erin described them all, and Hector nodded, saying, “I actually don’t know what Skyler Mills looked like, but your description of his outfit certainly fits with the style he might’ve worn. Maybe your visitor was… acting the part?”
While Riley and Erin considered this, Hector added, “What you said about Reed and Elys certainly sounds like the photos I’ve seen of them. I’m just not sure why anyone would… I don’t know, try to impersonate them? Would you mind telling me about what they said?”
Riley and Erin smiled at each other and began telling the stories from the previous evening as they, Hector, Alexis, Blake, and Kerry sat down at the round table in front of the hearth. The kids went to join some of their friends that were being entertained by another townsperson that had brought a guitar. They were singing Christmas carols to the great delight of Emerson Rees, who some of the kids were convinced was Santa Clause in disguise (mainly because he was the oldest person in the room and kept suspiciously chuckling with a distinct “Ho ho hoo!” under his breath).
The morning, afternoon, and evening saw the Hushed Hearth Inn as busy as it ever had been, and no one left without at least one special moment or memory. For many, it was Riley’s toast, which was apparently a quote from someone up through his family tree:
“To all of us gathered here today… I thank you for the friendship you have shown to us and to each other. Let us all remember today, that we were able to gather despite the weather in a place that will forever fill the role as haven for love and laughter in Whispering Fork…”
***
Three weeks later, the euphoric feeling from Christmas had not quite worn off, but Riley found himself worrying once again about the bills. They only had two weeks to come up with the balance on the lien. Business had picked up a bit, and in fact a somewhat exotic couple was currently in the dining room, having booked a room for a full week. Erin was chatting with them in her typical Erin-ish way, and seemed more animated than usual. The couple were responding in kind. A moment later, Erin was frantically waving Riley over to the table.
“Riley!” Erin said, barely containing her excitement. “Did you know that Matteo and Teresa are from Texas? Well, not originally, but that’s where they’ve lived for the past twenty years?”
“No, I don’t think I knew that. Interesting!” Riley said, turning to Matteo and Teresa. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“We just couldn’t resist staying a while in the world-famous Hushed Hearth Inn!” Teresa replied, a slight accent marking her as Eastern European, although her light hair and complexion would have fit better on someone of Scandinavian descent.
“World-famous, huh? Well now I have to ask — where in the world did you hear about us?”
Erin couldn’t contain herself any longer. “We’re in this months’ Condé Nast Traveler!”
“Condé Nast Traveler? What’s that?” asked Riley.
“Only the most important travel magazine in the northeast, if not the whole US.”
Matteo leaned over and pulled something out of his backpack. A moment later, he handed a copy of a slightly-worn magazine to Riley.
“Here you go!” he said, his accent and dark complexion marking him as likely Italian. The magazine he’d handed to Riley featured a flattering picture of the Hushed Hearth Inn from Christmas Day on the cover. The lead story was titled “The Hushed Hearth,” and the author’s byline read Hector Bardin.
Riley flipped toward the center of the magazine and began reading the article.
At the request of my illustrious editor, Alexis Stone, on the 100th anniversary of the first issue of Signature Magazine (from which emerged Condé Nast Traveler, the periodical you, dear reader, currently hold in your hands), I originally intended to write about Signature’s founding by my great-great-grandparents, Andrew Reed Foster and Katherine Elys Foster. Instead, and given the season, it seems more compelling to tell you the tale of the founding of my great-great-grandparents themselves, the story of which was uncovered during a holiday excursion to my cousin’s ranch in Whispering Fork, Connecticut.
Centrally featured in this story is the Hushed Hearth Inn, located squarely between the tines of the fork from whence the town gets its name. When tragedy struck Reed and Elys (they went by their middle names), the Hushed Hearth Inn became their second home, providing them with everything they needed to survive and thrive.
The article then detailed, in touching tribute, the story that Reed and Elys related to Riley and Erin, and then Riley and Erin had shared with Hector and Alexis. It then switched to Hector’s perspective from Christmas Day.
The current owners, Riley and Erin, carry on the family tradition with seemingly effortless grace. The entire town had been without power for all of Christmas Eve and on into Christmas Day itself. My cousin was both frantic and despondent, as most of the Christmas glory he’d planned relied on a steady supply of alternating current. However, when word reached us that a party was forming at the inn, we decided to hoof the half mile through the snow and see what the hubbub was about.
Arriving, we were greeted by a scene straight out of a Dickens story. The outside of the inn was modestly appointed with holly garlands and evergreen wreaths smartly trimmed with simple red bows and ribbons. The interior, however, was in the process of being grandly decorated by a large but disparate group of townsfolk of all ages. A collection of mismatched tinsel, holly, and garland was draped or hung throughout the lobby and on into the dining room. It turned out that the decorations had been brought by the townsfolk — the inn itself only providing the canvas for decorative art.
The description Hector had written of the day was touching and sentimental, capturing all that Riley had hoped everyone in town would feel and experience. The article ended with an unexpected call to action.
I have no idea what actually happened on Christmas Eve at the Hushed Hearth Inn, but I do know this: Mathilde (or Maud, if you’re more familiar) created a legacy that carries well on to this day. If you ever find yourself in need of rest and rejuvenation, warmth and welcome, fellowship and family, you would do well to reserve a room for yourself at the Hushed Hearth, and consider spending at least a week there, enjoying all that Whispering Fork has to offer.
Riley put the magazine down, then looked back to Matteo and Teresa. “Is this actually what brought you here?”
Teresa nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! We read about the inn in the magazine, then did a little research on the town on the Internet. It sounded perfect for a venture we’d like to undertake, but wanted to visit the area for a bit before committing to it fully.”
“A venture?”Erin asked. “Ooo, sounds intriguing and exciting already! We’ve lived here all our lives. What do you need to know?”
“Well,” Matteo said, slipping the magazine back into his backpack, “We’re in the antiques, art, and decor business. We’ve been looking to move to the northeast for a while now, but haven’t found quite the right place to try to start a seasonal antique market.”
“When we read about Whispering Fork, something clicked for us,” Teresa continued. “The main issue is that this is a farming community. Do you know of anyone that might be interested in selling some land that they aren’t using for anything else?”
Erin looked at Riley, who looked at the couple sitting in front of him.
“I… think we might know someone with thirty unused acres available…”
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